Find Your Way Back
by Vampykitty-kun
Summary: To stop Talia's attack upon Gotham, Bruce makes the decision to send Damian back with his mother, despite the boy's protests and Dick's wishes. Knowing Dick will not stand for it, Bruce makes a choice that will likely strain their relationship like never before. Although Damian has returned with his mother, he is far from being the perfect obedient son Talia once left behind. SLASH
1. The Decision

Here we go! This fic is going to be an interesting one to write for me. It's another one of my branch off AU's where I keep things cannon until a certain point than deviate from comic plot entirely.

The point of deviation here would be New 52's Batman Incorporated, between issues #4 and #5. Some pieces of issue 5 remain but not all, and from there on out everything cannon will be ignored.

For those of you who do not know and have no intention of reading the comics, quite bluntly, Bruce makes the decision to send Damian back to his mother, telling him he can no longer be Robin, and he will NEVER be Batman otherwise the world will end. He is sending him back to stop Talia's attack on Gotham, and to pull the mass bounty off of Damian's head, on top of saving the world from a potential apocalyptic future (Aka: Stuff that was shown in Batman issues #666 and #700 as well as a few others prior to the New 52.) Dick's reaction to this in the comics was completely nonexistent and OOC. He was unfazed and carried on like nothing had ever happened. Not sure what Morrison was thinking there. Regardless of whether you ship Dick and Damian, or you think of them as brothers, or a father/son type relationship, you know very well that Dick should not have gone along with that so very easily, if for nothing else, Bruce treating his son in such a poor way, knowing just how to heart Damian takes things. It is not in Dick's nature to just let that slide past him.

So here we are. Dick is going to have feels.

In this particular fic, I am shipping Dick/Damian, though noticeably not until later when Damian is somewhat older. There may be a few underage tidbits, but nothing too strong. Damian IS going back, but that does not mean he will be the same obedient perfect son that he once was prior to being placed in his father's care, and prior to being Dick's Robin.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"This has to end Damian. Robin, Redbird, all of it." Batman sighed. "I thought it could be different. But I was wrong."

He watched his father hold his hands out to the side, begging him to understand.

But he would _never_ understand.

He gaped at the man, face scrunched up, unable to really process just what he was feeling other than dread and inevitable betrayal.

Jason was behind him, seemingly legitimately shocked at the turn the conversation had taken. Tim was standing by idly, watching the scene play out. Dick's eyes had gone wide, his face drained of color, with fists clenched at his sides.

"I-I did everything… I gave up _everything_." His voice cracked.

His voice _never_ cracked.

The Batman's face softened slightly, but all Damian could see was pity. Damian did not want pity, he simply wanted acceptance, trust. Something he had thought he had earned.

Apparently not.

"Your mother has manipulated us into an impossible situation. Son, I wish it wasn't true, but I know now." The Bat paused, perhaps judging his reaction before continuing. "You have to go back to her. If you do not, Gotham, the _world_, will be plunged into chaos. And you Damian? You are going to be responsible…"

At that he froze.

It was simply not something he could believe about himself, nor could he believe that his father of all people was basing his opinions and decisions upon a _dream_. Even if said dream had had some merit to it, the future was never written in stone. There were an endless number of futures that could occur based upon single choices and actions. If given the chance and the knowledge of a potential situation, one could easily avoid self-fulfilling prophecies.

He sunk to the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest as he stared at the men before him.

They were giving up. Plain and simple. His father had never asked for him, had never consented to his 'birth', and now wished to take the easy route and be rid of him.

It shouldn't, but it hurt. The knowledge clawed at his chest, and clenched at his throat, burning at his eyes. He had never felt such despair and desperation before.

Jason seemed distressed at being in the position he had been brought into.

Memories… sympathy he supposed.

Dick was stiff, jaw clenched, as he stared at him.

A frustrated sigh escaped the Bat's throat, bringing all of their attention back towards him.

Jason huffed and shook his head.

"The kid's in shock _Bruce_. Give him a break-"

"I saw the future… I _know_ what your mother is planning Damian." Batman interrupted, ignoring the attempted protest.

The monotone voice, for the first time in a long while, caused Damian to flinch, and he curled in tighter upon himself.

The way in which he had spoken… had sounded as though the man believed that he himself was aware of what went on within his mother's head.

The hurt in his chest only increased tenfold with that thought.

Jason seemingly could no longer stand the cloud of distress he was putting off, as he slipped away silently, Tim following close behind, leaving the three of them to themselves.

"She wanted you to join me as Robin. She intends for you to replace me, and I cannot let that happen. Because if you become Batman…" He paused, stepping closer. "Everything falls apart."

He watched his father approach him, tensing as the man's shadow enveloped him, before he stood at rest behind him. It unnerved him further, being unable to see the man.

"I don't know exactly how it happens. But I know _what_ happens. I know how it ends." Damian slumped as his father's tone only grew darker. "I had a dream of a future Batman who sold his soul to the devil and destroyed Gotham. Your mother is manipulating events to mold you into that Batman, her _agent_. We changed this much at least- your intervention here tonight did not get one of us killed, which is what I had feared. But you cannot be Robin. You can _**never**_ be Batman. Right now I can only think of one solution Damian."

He took in a shaky breath, and turned to glare at his father, only managing to muster up a crumpled, pleading gaze.

"No one knows what the future holds Father. Why would you do this… to me? Do not _make_ me go back to her. I want to stay with you…"

The Bat let out another frustrated sigh, far closer to a growl, and clenched his hands. But before he could speak further, a strangled whine sounded from across the room.

"Dammit Bruce! That's enough!" Dick exploded, stalking towards the two. "He's a ten year old little boy! Your son! He may act all big and tough, as old as Tim and Jason, but he's not! You can't treat him like a criminal. He's a child, and he's done nothing wrong. You're judging him by something he hasn't done, something he doesn't have to do, something his _mother_ hopes to accomplish, not him." He growled, fisting the front of the man's cape as he glared up at him.

"_Nightwing_, this is none of your concern-"

"The hell it's not _Bruce_!" He snarled, pointing down at Damian. "You were gone for a year! Even then some since you ran off to parade around the world looking for soldiers to add to your war. I wore the mantle that entire time, even though I knew that Batman was something I was not, and never could be! I was the one who took care of him, who trusted him, who welcomed him into our home and our lives! So I'll be damned if it's 'none of my business'." He hissed, crossing his arms.

"This isn't up for discussion. It is my choice."

"And he has no say in the matter!?" He gasped. "You know what sending him back there will mean. You know what it entails, what they'll have him doing. He will be at their mercy, forced to kill on command, forced to slaughter innocent people just because they wish it, regardless of whether or not _he_ wants to."

And Damian did _not_ wish to go.

"It is… unfortunate, but something that must happen. Talia created the boy for her own purposes, for her father's. She never intended for me to be more than a genetic donor. She knew where I stood and that I would not return to her and her ideals. She will not allow me to have him without paying the ultimate price, and I will not condemn a city of people for one single boy, even if he is my own flesh and blood."

"You are impossible! This is not what is best for him, for all of us! You're just looking to take the easy way out!" He roared, giving the man's chest a shove.

Bruce only frowned and shook his head.

"And you are not thinking about what is best for the city, the _world_ Dick. You are _not_ the boy's father-"

"I never claimed to be! I never tried to be! That is your position alone Bruce, and you're failing at it. You're pushing him away because it's gotten too hard." Dick insisted, grimacing. "Just like you have done at one point or another with each and every one of us. This isn't right, and you know it. I can't believe that you would give your own son to the wolves."

The Bat stepped forward once more, crowding the smaller man.

"Contrary to what you may believe Dick… I am not doing this because I want to. I am doing this because I have to. There is more at stake than just the wellbeing of my son. You will come to understand that in time."

"The hell I will!" Dick hissed, turning towards Damian.

He crouched down in front of the boy, placing his hands on his shoulders, and squeezed lightly. He gave him a small smile and reached upward, flipping his lenses up to look the boy in the eyes.

"You did good tonight kiddo. Real good." He insisted, nodding his head.

Damian stared up at him, heart hammering in his chest as he regarded the man in disbelief, awed at the display put forth over the last few minutes all on his behalf.

"Grayson, I-" Damian paused, eyes widening as he looked over the man's shoulder. "Thank you." He murmured, face falling as a gauntlet brushed against Dick's neck.

The man stiffened and shifted, attempting to turn around, only for the room to sway.

"You- you _didn't_?" He gasped, sliding backwards, reaching a gloved hand up to his throat.

His fingers brushed up against the small dart lodged in the side of his neck, and he whimpered, glaring up at the man towering over him as his back connected with the ground. He wrenched the protrusion from his throat, and tossed it as far away from himself as he could muster, before turning his head back towards Damian with a crestfallen look on his face.

"M' sorry…" he murmured, reaching a hand out to the boy, before blacking out altogether.

Damian's throat clenched tightly at the motion, and he glared viciously up at his father.

"He will not forget this." He snarled, rising to his feet.

"No, he won't." Bruce agreed, staring down sadly at his eldest son. "No he wont…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	2. Betrayed

This fic has become another monster I suppose.

So long as people continue to like and comment on it, I have no problem with that though, lol.

Enjoy!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When Alfred pulled up in one of the older Batmobiles, saying that he disapproved of the whole situation was putting it lightly. He bit his tongue as Batman hoisted the unconscious Nightwing into the back seat a strapped him in, and gave him an all telling look as they locked gazes. The elderly man shook his head sadly, and cast his gaze upon the boy standing some ten feet behind his father, grimacing as he took in the child's obvious distress.

"Master Damian, I do hope you have an easy journey. I cannot stress enough how greatly saddened I am by this turn of events, and it is regretful that you must take your leave." The man sighed, watching Damian tremble with what he supposed was both anger and sadness. "Please believe me when I say, it has been a pleasure Sir."

Damian swallowed roughly, and softened his gaze briefly to give the man a curt nod.

"Pennyworth."

With a sigh, the Bat turned and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, and squeezed lightly. Damian immediately shrugged it off and glared up at the man.

"Come Damian. We must go pacify your mother."

Whether or not Damian went quietly out of spite or defeat could only be known by him.

When they arrived at the Wayne owned building it had already erupted into chaos. Gotham's finest were camped out front, squad cars lining the streets, men if full tactical gear ready to storm the building at any moment. To say that Gordon looked relieved when he caught sight of them was an understatement.

"Thank god you've arrived. The whole building is under siege, and they refuse to speak with anyone but you. What in the hell is going on Batman? This whole night has been nothing but wide scale madness."

The Bat cast the man a sympathetic look and let out a growl.

"Unfortunately, this is an extreme case of a domestic dispute. Gotham has unfortunately been caught in the crossfire. I'm doing everything I can to rectify this as quickly as possible with minimal destruction and loss of life. If your men know what's good for them, they will keep out of the way until I give the all-clear. With any luck, this should all be over shortly." Somehow the look on the Batman's face was not comforting in the slightest, even compared to normal, and the Commissioner clenched his jaw. "I truly am sorry for this Jim. The mother of my son is being difficult, to say the least. I'm sorry that it came to this.

The Commissioner's eyes widened behind his lenses, and he turned to stare at the oddly clad Robin lingering close by.

"Your son eh?" He murmured, watching as the two made their way through the entrance of the building. "Poor child has a hell of a family…" He muttered, shaking his head.

It was times like this that Jim Gordon regretted giving up smoking.

The two were in the building only briefly before Talia's voice echoed in over their com-links.

"_Hello my Detective. Damian."_

"Talia." Bruce answered, eyes narrowing. "Call off your men. Let us end this. It is time to talk this out, without involving a city full of innocent people."

"_It is by your choices alone that I was forced to act as I have, my Beloved."_ She stated bluntly into the receiver.

The Bat growled, and glared into the darkness as they stepped through the halls.

"If you have been hacked into this frequency, I assume you have been listening all night. Then you know why I am here Talia."

"_Indeed. I must admit, even I was unsure of whether or not you would choose the city over your son. I guess I should have expected as much. After all, you chose it over I."_ She quipped, ending in a small huff.

"Talia, this is not the time. Show yourself!"

The line remained silent as they approached the stairwell, and Bruce could not avoid a sharp intake of breath as dozens of armed men peered over the railings, all aimed and prepared to attack.

But the attack never came.

"_Very well…"_ The woman drawled. _"It seems as those you did indeed come alone and that you are serious about such an arrangement. I am on the roof. You will remain unharmed as you pass. I give my word."_

At this, Damian snorted, but his father did not comment.

The trip up the levels of the building was unnerving. The sheer number of gunmen Talia had brought for this occasion showed just how serious she had been about storming Gotham, and just how outnumbered they would have been had they chosen to fight. Further adding to the unease, every so often they passed explosives, easily missed by the untrained eye. Apparently if all else had failed, Talia would have taken them all out with a bang. The higher they reached, a low rumble in the background became a thundering roar.

Once the cleared the final floor, he wrenched the rooftop door open briskly, and stepped out onto the expanse of the roof, eyes hunting for the brunette they sought out. Talia sat perched upon a folding canvas chair, surrounded by guards, directly in front of massive helicopter.

This explained the rumble from earlier.

Damian approached from behind at stared at the woman warily.

"Talia." He addressed her, giving a curt nod.

"It is good to see you my Beloved. Tragic that this meeting is not over more pleasant circumstances." She sighed, drumming her nails against the edge of the chair.

"Hn." He grunted in response, eyes narrowing. "What are your plans for him now Talia?"

"He is the heir of the al Ghul legacy. He will continue his training for that purpose."

"Which is?"

She gave a small chuckle, and rose from her chair, stepping forward.

"Always seeking answers, are you not? I am afraid that it is no longer your concern Detective." Talia smiled, but it did not reach her eyes as she reached her hand out towards her son. "Come along now Damian. Let us not postpone this any longer, my son." She cooed, stepping forward and taking his arm.

"…I-" He squeaked, squirming in her grip.

"And we will get you out of this ridiculous outfit…" She murmured, tugging him towards the opened door of the helicopter.

Damian chanced a look behind him, silently pleading with his father to do something, anything to stop their departure. He would settle for any sign of the man finding a way around this.

Except the Dark Knight made no move. He only watched grimly, mouth pressed into a tight line as the door closed behind them.

Damian slunk down into the seat beside his mother silently, hanging his head as he stared at the floor.

No one would be coming for him.

This was it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Gordon was not the slightest bit relieved when Batman exited the building, lacking one small child at his side, sporting the grimmest face he had ever seen on the man. The Bat approached the Commissioner hesitantly, and gave a ragged sigh.

"The situation has been dealt with. You will have no further problems regarding this group. Your men have the all clear to storm the building. I'm afraid that you will find it vacated, other than of course the hostages. Several left via helicopter; the others have scattered by foot and are likely half-way across the city by now." He paused, judging Jim's reaction. "This device is the only trigger for the multitude of explosives located throughout the premises. They have all been disarmed, and should easily be removed. All hostages are safe." He stated, handing the man a small remote device.

"Where's the boy?"

"Gone."

"Is that a permanent arrangement?" He asked, although he was sure he knew the answer.

"Yes."

Jim's face fell and he nodded his head sadly at the man.

"For what it's worth Batman…I'm sorry."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The silent drive home was not comforting at all. He knew that his remaining sons would be waiting for him in the cave upon his arrival, two of which had missed most of the spectacle, and the third who would be difficult upon his awakening.

As he drove through the tunnels he prepared himself for confrontation, finding rather quickly that nothing he could say would make the whole ordeal okay. He wondered if this mess would reverse the progress he had made with Jason, no matter how small, and he was unsure altogether about the possible reaction from Tim. Alfred would be infinitely disappointed in him, but understanding to a point. And Dick?

Dick might never forgive him.

It was no secret that the two had bonded in his absence. Dick had clung to the child tightly despite his resistance, yet had still given him his trust and space. Dick had entrusted him with the Robin mantle, even when it had meant that his job as Batman would be ever the harder. He had trained the boy in less lethal methods, and had held Damian back from killing without a second thought. He had treated the boy with respect, and yet he had not allowed the child to run things. He had embraced the fact that Damian had seldom acted his age, had respected his wishes to not be treated as a child, yet had not once forgotten that he was in fact a young boy. He had treated Damian as an equal, a partner… as family.

Damian had worked alongside Dick for well over a year. Bruce had been able to see the changes immediately upon his return, whether or not Damian had intended for him to notice or not. He had looked up to Dick, had aimed to please him, and had held him in much higher regard than anyone else in their close knit circle. He was unsure of just how his son viewed the man, given that he insisted that he had no siblings, clearly had not viewed the man as a father figure, and despite his fondness for the man still refused to call him by anything but his surname, but Dick had been something to the boy all the same.

Bruce knew that Dick would not have let things gone down as they had without a fight. A fight that he would have surely lost, and he could not have handled losing two sons in one night. He had seen the determination in his former Robin's eyes, and he knew that Dick would have put his life on the line for the boy's freedom. Bruce stood by his decision to sedate him. There would be consequences for his actions, he was no fool, but he would rather be hated than bury yet another one of his boys.

Once had been enough. Too much really.

He pulled into the cave, grimacing as three set of eyes fell upon him as he parked the car. He drew in a deep breath before mustering up the strength to leave the vehicle. When Damian did not follow behind him, he watched as both boys fixed accusing stares upon him. Alfred seemingly felt no differently.

"Shit…" Jason cursed, leaning back up against the wall, a scowl planted on his face.

Bruce made his way towards the men, feeling the tension increase the closer he got. He stopped mere feet from them, tense in the shoulders as he took in their moods. Before he could break the awkward silence however, it was broken for him as a crash sounded from the med bay. All four of them turned, watching as Dick stumbled into the main expanse of the cave, eyes searching the area frantically. Bruce could only assume that the roar of the engine had woken him.

When the man neglected to lay eyes on what he was praying he would find, he stared up at them with wide eyes.

"Where- what did you do?" he squeaked, stepping towards them. "You… you _drugged_ me." He hissed, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

"Dick, I need you to calm down." Bruce winced, holding up a hand.

"Calm down!?" He snapped, stalking towards them. "H-How could you? Why? And what have you done with him Bruce?" He pled face crumpling, knowing he already knew the answer.

"He's gone Dick."

And with that, the man before them let out a strangled cry.

"Gone? GONE!? How could you just let this happen!? How could you just hand him over like that!?" He sputtered, swaying slightly on his feet.

"It had to happen Dick. I…I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_? Sorry doesn't cut it Bruce! He is your son. He's not just some random piece of property you hand over when your ex demands it back. He's a human being. You just gave a child to someone you _know_ will mistreat him."

Bruce sighed, and reached out to the man, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dick only smacked it away furiously.

"The boy is her son too, whom she raised for ten years prior to his arrival in Gotham. She has a right to him just as much, if not more than I."

At this Dick laughed in disbelief.

"Yeah, and look where that had him Bruce! He came here ready to kill anything and everything. He'd never seen an ounce of compassion, experienced the slightest bit of compassion. He was essentially nothing but a little ball of hate and rage." He spat. "And you just put him back."

"You fail to understand what Talia would have done, what she was capable of doing. Gotham would have been torn to shreds. Just look at the damage she caused in one night. It all would have been our fault."

"You…you _drugged_ me." He murmured, eyes slipping to the floor.

"You would have tried to stop it. She would have retaliated. You could have gotten yourself killed."

"Someone _should_ have tried… and you had no right to make that decision for me."

"It… was for the best. You don't see it that way now, but in time you will come to understand that."

Dick's shoulders slumped, and he stared up at the man who had raised him sadly. He swallowed roughly, and blinked back the tears forming in his eyes as he clenched his jaw tightly. After a brief pause, he snorted in disbelief at the man.

"Bruce, you've made me wish for the very first time… that you never came back." He choked, shaking his head. "I've heard others say it, but this is the first time I've felt that myself…"

Bruce drew in a sharp breath, and watched as Dick spun on his heel, and exited the cave, never looking back. He watched until the man's form completely disappeared before turning away himself and meeting the gaze of Alfred. The man gave a heavy, sad sigh, and turned towards the stairwell.

"I shall be upstairs, in the kitchen, making you some dinner and tea, Sir. I do hope you find yourself in the dining room shortly, so that I may speak to Bruce Wayne the man, rather than the bat." And with that, he too left the cave, leaving him in the presence of Jason and Tim, his middle sons.

Both boys seemed speechless, both with their own reasoning's he supposed.

They all stood there stiffly, shifting awkwardly in the deafening silence that had followed Dick's departure. Tim had his eyes shut, breathing deeply, likely in attempt to calm himself and bite his tongue. Jason however was the one to break the silence.

Bruce could honestly say he hadn't expected that.

"You've taken Robin away from him twice now I suppose." Jason laughed darkly, shaking his head. "Once in the form of a suit, now in the form of the boy. Way to show how much you care, Bruce. Good luck with that one." He snorted, stepping towards him.

"Jason, you don't-"

"Understand? Sure I do. I understand perfectly, more so than I ever have. See, 'cause I had some illusion cooked up in my brain that you actually gave a damn, at least about your _perfect_ first edition. I thought you cared about him more than anything or anyone else. Hell, I even thought that if it had been _him_ that the Joker had killed, that you would have lost it… would have avenged him, and that was the source of a lot of rage for a very long time. But now? Now I see that I was wrong. You would have handled things no differently. Now I see that you just don't give a damn. That we're all replaceable, your little pawns. Because if we weren't, you wouldn't have sent the little demon brat away. You would not have abandoned your own flesh and blood. You would not have _drugged_ your Golden Boy and taken away what very well could have been his favorite person in this sad little word of ours. Between thinking that you just picked favorites, and you not caring at all, I'm not sure which hurts more." He muttered.

"Jason it's not like that, not at all."

"Really? Because you sure could have surprised me." he hissed, crossing his arms. "Look Bruce… you're not a bad person. You never go about anything selfishly, for your own personal gain. But you suck at being human, and you're horrible when it comes to being a father. You put a roof over our heads, kept us nice and fed, and gave us everything we ever wanted… even let us be a part your personal fantasy world which has been the best thing to happen to us all. But it all don't mean a damned thing without your love and trust. The lack of THAT is what chases us away."

Bruce drew in a deep breath and pulled his cowl down, running a hand through his hair, and cringed as he met Tim's eyes across the cave. He did not look like he at all disagreed.

"You're lucky Bruce. Lucky that even after all of this, Dick will forgive you, because quite frankly, you know damned well that I wouldn't have. But you are all Dick has, and it's not in his nature to give up on someone, no matter how much they hurt him. Had you pulled what you did tonight to most people, they'd be saying sayonara." He snorted, shaking his head. "As for me? I've already gotten used to being disappointed in the way you do things. But Wingman's up for grabs all the same. I'm not much up to being a team player right now. Sure you understand."

With that, Jason tossed his armor at Bruce's feet, and stalked over to his bike, slipping his usual helmet one. And just as Dick had just minutes earlier, he barreled out of the cave without looking back.

Bruce clenched his jaw and rubbed at a temple as he turned towards Tim. The teen still stood flat against the cave wall, watching him with a solemn expression on his face.

"I suppose you have something to say about this as well?" He questioned, suddenly looking very worn.

Tim sighed and shook his head.

"No. I've found over the years that silence is the greater punishment." He murmured.

He then went in which Alfred had, up the cave stairs, leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

And there we are. 2nd chapter in 24 hours, and a long one at that.

Not too much Damian here, but from here on out this fic will be centered around him, so this chapter sets that up nicely.

Hope to hear what you thought!


	3. Aftermath

Time for family feels and aftermaths!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Dick had returned to his apartment feeling an overwhelming plethora of emotions crashing down upon him as he fought through the haze of the sedatives. Several times he had nearly mis-swung or botched a landing, but he had not been able to stop, not until he was safely within his apartment, tucked far away from everyone and everything else. It was too much to deal with, and yet he could not make it all go away. There was no forgetting this outrageous turn of events.

Bruce was a traitor… he had flat out knowingly betrayed his trust, bashing seventeen years' worth of partnership and love to pieces.

And Damian was gone. The boy he had accepted with open arms, trusted when no one else had, was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. To travel halfway across the world and confront Talia and the League of Assassins would be suicide, and ultimately, would only traumatize Damian further.

There was no resolution to this mess, and he had not even felt so defeated and hurt when Bruce had taken Robin away from him, not even close.

He had tried so hard to give Damian a normal life, trust, and unconditional love. Now, he was back with the people that had stripped away any sense of a childhood from him, that had raised him to be the deadliest sort of assassin, that had ultimately made him into an uncaring adult in a child's body… and it was heart breaking.

He collapsed on his bed in full costume, only taking the time to pry his mask loose, rubbing the adhesive left over from his face. He stared up at the ceiling blankly, letting his thoughts run rampant and take hold.

Suddenly he felt so very alone.

He had fallen asleep with his costume on, for once not able to care that such a thing could get him caught if one of his civilian acquaintances happened to let themselves in. He was drained, and still feeling the side effects of the sedative, which made sleep come quickly and with ease. So much so that he did not awaken until the following after noon.

When he had, the word came crashing back down upon him once more, and he had cried. He had curled in on himself, body wracked with sobs, as he thought of all he had just lost.

It was only hours later, after he had regained a sliver of his composure, that he was able to call the one person that stuck by him no matter what idiotic, selfish things he had done.

He did so via webcam, needing to see her face, to see her speak her comforting words, to see her outrage.

And outrage it was.

Babs had known just by looking at him that something was _very_ wrong. When he explained, rather shakily with his voice cracking, she had erupted into a blazing rage. She could feel his hurt long before he had begun to cry once more, and when the tears did fall, she murmured comforting words at him, cooing at him softy, and even without her there right beside him, he could feel the ghost of her fingers carding through his hair.

Barbara Gordon could ease the pain, but she would be unable to heal the wounds, wounds that were surely going to leave jagged scars across his heart.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

After Tim's departure, Bruce has silently slipped into the showers, washing away the night's filth. He wished he could wash away the guilt rolling off him in waves, and cleanse himself of memories of the past several hours, but that was a feat left up to the magicians, and they were not going anywhere near his mind.

As he had suspected, any progress he had made with Jason over the past several months had seemingly gone to waste, not particularly due to Damian's departure, but the treatment of his eldest. He honestly wondered what the consequences of severing that trust once again would be…

He shuddered at the thought, the hot water beating down on his back rhythmically.

He had distanced himself from Tim even further on this night as well, which pained him greatly, the boy already having become reclusive since his return, or rather, his death if what Alfred ad been saying was true, and the elder man was seldom in the wrong. The past few months he had only watched as Tim had slipped further and further away, disappearing all together for days at times, which was worrisome.

But the response from Dick, which had been everything he had expected, and prepared himself for, was what tugged at his heart strings. He could have perhaps brushed the encounter off, for they had gotten into many arguments over the years, but the statement the he wished he had never returned put a whole new light on the situation.

This time he had truly messed up. The repercussions of this fiasco were going to be extreme, and Dick never would forget, he could only hope that his eldest forgave… understood with time.

When finished with his shower, Bruce pulled a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt onto his bulky form, and started his walk of shame up the cave stairwell. As promised, Alfred was already waiting for him in the dining room, dinner and tea seated at the head of the table. With a heavy sigh, he crossed the stretch of room to the table, and slid down into his seat.

Bruce knew that things were truly serious, and that he was about to get an ample talking to, when Alfred sat down kiddie corner from him and let out a ragged sigh as he poured them tea.

"Alfred?" Bruce broke the silence, watching as the man took a large swig of tea.

"Master Bruce… you know very well that I bite my tongue in regards to a considerable amount of what goes on in this household out of my undying devotion to you, Sir, however," The man paused, seemingly prepping himself. "what has gone on tonight has slipped so far over the line that I very honestly fear for you. You showed absolutely no compassion tonight for _any_ of your children. You sent away your youngest, your only blood-son, and put him in the hands of a woman you surely know will brainwash him into being the same coldhearted shell of boy he was when he arrived here, if not more so. You sedated Master Richard, highly against his will, and took away the boy he spent a year bonding with, forming strong emotional attachment, whilst you were away, Timothy was missing, and he otherwise secluded himself. Not only is the loss devastating for him, but it was a severe breach of trust, even if you did so to potentially save his life. That was not your choice to make I am afraid, and I am sure that he is now questioning the legitimacy of your love for any of them, _anyone_ for that matter, if in one night you could manage to cut everyone so deeply and rip their trust to shreds." The man sighed, shaking his head sadly.

"Alfred, it was not my intention to hurt them all so…" he moaned, hanging his head.

"Master Bruce, I cannot see how you thought it could not. Master Jason and you have already been at odds with one another for quite some time. The basis of much of his rage and hurt is built off of expectations he had for you in the wake of his death, as well as post revival. I know it is not something you wish to think about, but the lad hardly had a childhood. Surely not before coming to us, hardly so after, and nothing but training, rage, and hate after his return. Had you simply bit the bullet per say, and merely coddled the boy, reassuring him of just how much you cared rather than indulging in his anger, fighting with one another, I do believe things could have happened differently. But you were too distressed to think with a clear mind, repulsed that the child you once loved and cared for so greatly had warped into little more than a highly trained killing machine, and it only made you colder. Any progress you had made these last few months behind the scenes will have been lost by tonight. The boy is far too sensitive to not take your actions tonight to heart, even if nothing was aimed at him. And Timothy? Poor child already has had to deal with abandonment issues starting with his parents, then with Master Richard, and cemented in by yourself upon your return. I cannot fathom what may be going through his head right now, now that you have abandoned your son, the boy who essentially replaced him in everyone's lives, and alienated once more the first boy you took in to love and care for. Let us not even begin to cover the damage to your own psyche that I know very well this has caused whether you show it or not. It is not healthy in the slightest to hold back your emotions, and from where I stand, it seems as though all you do is just that. I dare say you have made a mess of this family as a whole Master Bruce, and if you hope to restore the slightest bit of normalcy and trust, you best do it sooner rather than later as longer you wait, the longer those boys have to think about what has happened, and the longer they think you do not care."

And with that, without giving him the chance to respond, Alfred rose from his seat with a ragged sigh, and left for the kitchen once more, leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts…

He had gone to bed afterwards eating very little. He could not stomach the food with his gut twisting about within.

He slept fitfully, nightmares abundant, and was just as tired the following morning as he had been before attempting to sleep if not more so.

The house was empty, far too quiet and still, other than Alfred lingering in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

He had spent much of his day alone in his office, simply thinking.

He skipped patrol that night, opting instead to search for his sons as Bruce, rather than the bat. But it was not to be on that night, not at all…

For each and every one of them were unreachable. No phones were answered, neither were coms. Tim was not at home, neither was Dick, and Jason could be anywhere and everywhere. Even Oracle was offline, and missing from her tower.

And quite suddenly, Bruce felt eerily alone, for the first time in many years.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Jason awoke with a start, shooting up out of bed with his berretta at the ready, aimed at the window from which the loud knock had come. He fought the urge in his sleep hazed mind to go ahead and pull the trigger as he realized just who was pressed against the glass.

With a growl, he stalked over to the window, wrenching it open with a grunt, glaring at the teen perched just outside.

"The fuck do you want? How long have you known about this location?" He hissed, crossing his arms.

"Longer than you would likely be comfortable with…" Tim sighed, slumping as he stared up at the man. "I-I just… I'm not even sure, really…" He murmured, leaning against the frame.

Jason regarded him carefully, looking him over. Tim looked tired, drained really. Far from his usually perky self. He would have blamed it entirely on the mess with Bruce if he hadn't looked off somewhat prior to the Bat's announcement earlier in the night. Jason was tired too though, and not entirely up to a fight should one break out now of all times.

"What do you want? Just spit it out already. I don't have time for games. In case you hadn't noticed, I was getting some much needed sleep before you woke my ass up." He snapped, lip curling as looked down at the teen.

If at all possible, Tim seemed to make himself smaller as he flinched, averting his gaze.

"I-I'm sorry…" He murmured, clenching at his arms.

Jason drew in a sharp breath, and released it with a growl, backing away from the window.

"Get in before someone sees you. Hurry up, before I change my mind…" He muttered, walking over to retrieve his cigarettes from the crate acting as a nightstand.

Tim obliged, and gently closed the widow behind him.

The older male sat back upon the bed, lighting up, and taking a heavy drag as he glared at the teen. Tim stood where he entered, shifting awkwardly as he looked across at him.

"The hell do you want? I highly doubt that this is a social call, so get it over and done with so you can get the hell away and I can go back to bed."

Tim sagged his shoulders, meeting his gaze with a pleading face, and Jason stiffened.

"Can't we just… call it a truce? Hasn't this gone on long enough, Jason?" He murmured, holding his position. " I…I know that you have been through a world of things, things that Bruce and the rest of us can barely begin to touch upon, but I've never once held that against you."

"That's bullshit, and you know it." He snorted, fixing him with a hardened, guarded gaze.

"Is it really?" Tim asked, pressing as he took a step forward. "Because honestly Jason, I get it. You came back, in a bad place. You were messed up, broken… alone. Bruce had moved on, the Joker was still hurting people, and suddenly here I was in _your_ place, your position, that you never let go of by choice. You came back, and in your eyes, there was nothing to come back to. All you could focus on was revenge, because it honestly seemed as though that was all you had left, the only purpose you could have possibly been brought back for."

"Don't psychoanalyze me-"

"I'm not finished yet!" Tim exclaimed, interrupting him. "I understand, I really do. The idea that killing the bad guys, the ones we know will never change, to eliminate the possibility of a threat… it's logical. I can't deny that. Because when you sit back and do the calculations, the number of lives lost as a result of us holding back is far greater than it would be had we just eliminated the threat in the first place. The thing is… I'm pretty sure we all know this. But the difference with us is… it would break us. We would never come back from it. Whereas with you, you have already been at your lowest, and you can only climb your way back up out of that hole."

"..What are you saying?"

"I am saying that… I understand." Tim sighed. "I know why you do things the way you do. I can even admit that in many ways your methods most definitely work. That does not mean I can condone your actions though. You are still murdering people, albeit very bad people, ones that no amount of help will _ever_ get through to them and result in change for the good, but murdering all the same. However… I cannot condemn you for your actions either. You are _not_ a bad person Jason, and no one has the right to make you feel like you are."

"I've tried to kill you." He stated bluntly, crossing his arms.

"And if you _really_ wanted me dead Jason… I would be, would I not?"

Jason finished off his cigarette with one long drag, the smell of burning filter flittering through the room as he stubbed the butt out in the ashtray.

"You're crazy. You know that?"

"We're all a little _mad_ Jason."

At this, Jason let out a booming laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"God you seriously just… you've been spending too much time with good ol' Dickie-bird if you can be humorous smack dab in the middle of a completely serious conversation." He chuckled, still torn between being amused and feeling ripped wide open. "So then… what's your deal? What do you want from me? I'm hardly the one to come running to when 'Daddy' shows his true colors and send us all crying to our rooms."

"I just… don't want any bad blood. I don't want to keep you alienated, taking Bruce's side, making you feel as though you are in this alone. But I am not going to take your side either. I don't want to be put in the middle, I just want to be neutral, Switzerland. I do not want to fight anymore. Things are going to get bad enough without us going at each other's throats."

Jason barely suppressed a flinch at what was likely an unintentional dig, letting out a ragged sigh instead, surprisingly nodding in agreement.

"He's not going to get over this… is he?"

Tim smiled sadly, and deciding that things were currently in safe mode, he moved forward, joining Jason upon the bed.

"No, I don't think Dick will..." he murmured, wringing his hands gently in his lap. "Damian was sort of the center of Dick's universe, whether he realized that or not. And what's horrible is, I was so _awful_ to the kid. I – he made life difficult… he ripped my world out from underneath me with no warning, no remorse, full of malicious intent. But even as he gradually got better, as Dick taught him restraint and how the real world works, I never once let it go. I let myself make him just as miserable as I felt. I never treated him like a part of this family, never trusted him, let him know I was always watching, waiting for him to slip up… and looking back? I regret it. I made myself part of the problem… and although I always thought I would be happier if he were gone, I'd give anything right now for him to still be here, if for no other reason than how he made Dick happy. That _look_ on his face Jason..."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've had that look on my face plenty of times… I get what he's feeling, I just know that he's not me, and hope he doesn't do anything stupid. But judging by how fast he booked it while still feeling the haze of that sedative, that's probably wishful thinking."

"Mmm…" Tim agreed, sighing as he squeezed his eyes shut. "What do we do?"

"We?" Jason laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fine. _We_ watch him carefully for a while, at a distance. Step in only if we need to. He'll need his space, but leaving him entirely to himself won't help. Go have coffee with him every once and a while or something."

"And you?"

"In case you haven't noticed family bonding isn't my thing. Dick was bitter when I came into the picture, and I died just as things started to not be awkward. Much of my relationship with Bruce was based on us trying to bite each other's heads off, while at the same time I was trying to cling, and was constantly paranoid that I was going to end up back out on the street. I was better at having a civilized conversation with Alfred really, but who isn't? It's best I leave the comforting up to you." He muttered, yawning after.

A moment of silence passed before Tim spoke again.

"Does that mean I can do the same with you?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow at the older man.

"_I_ don't need comforting." He huffed.

Tim only gave him a disbelieving stare.

"I'm sure."

"If you attempt to hug me, I _will_ stab you."

"Hugs are Dick's department, definitely not mine, and he does it whether you like them or not. I've been told however, that you _do_ appreciate a good movie." He suggested.

"Yeah, well the old man's a tattle tale…" he grumbled, rubbing at his stubble. "Luckily Alfred's just too lovable to get angry with… you're not going to leave unless I comply, or shoot you, are you?"

"You will just have to find out, won't you?"

In the end, they ended up making their way out to the living room, collapsing in a heap on the battered couch, flipping stations until something sparked their interest. It hardly mattered though, for both boys were asleep within minutes of relaxing, curled up in the corners of the couch…

The next day they awoke in the very same spot, legs jumbled together where they met in the center of the couch. Instead of harsh words and bickering following suit, Tim simply made breakfast and tea, and Jason was forced to admit to himself that if given the chance, Tim might actually be just as tolerable to be around as Alfred had once been.

And that was a nice thought indeed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The flight home yielded nothing but impending doom as far as Damian was concerned. The sudden onslaught of affection from his mother was unnerving at best. Even worse was not having the knowledge of what was expected of him in regards to it. His mother had never been an affectionate woman, and years prior to this situation he would have pegged it as an attack on his person, but now? He was incredibly unsure of how to take things…

He was crammed uncomfortably in his seat between her and one of the guards, forced to deal with the woman carding a hand through his hair much of the flight 'home'. She murmured silly nothings in his ears in Arabic, slowly easing him back into the language, he supposed. He could not bring himself to speak, to respond to her words, and she made no effort to force him on the matter. The Redbird suit felt unnaturally weighted on his shoulders, and his chest and throat felt uncomfortable tight, but he did not have the slightest urge to cry. Something of which he was thankful for as he was positive such a childish action would surely have repercussions.

Had he been a normal child, he supposed he would be staring out the window longingly, hoping that his father was following close behind, thinking of some way to reverse the situation. But Damian was beyond such foolish thoughts. There was no happy ending lurking around the corner. He was stuck.

The majority of the flight was spent wallowing in self-pity, feeling the deep sting of betrayal, and pondering over the intense warmth that spread throughout his chest upon replaying Dick's insistent protest of his father's choices in his head. The man's unwavering loyalty to him despite what chaos he had caused in his life, many times intentionally, left him surprisingly moved. This only increased his depression he found.

He would have given anything- if he had had anything left to give, to have stayed in Gotham. He had not realized just how attached he had gotten to the dark, cold, smog ridden city, not until it was far out of his reach.

His mother's talon-like nails scraped against his scalp, not overly rough, but demanding his attention all the same, and he failed to suppress a shudder. He met her gaze to find her frowning, and she removed her hand from his hair, letting it trail down his cheek, before grasping his chin tightly to hold his gaze.

"Your mind is not here Damian, what is it that you are thinking about, my son?" The soothing tone from earlier had gone it seemed, but Talia's voice was not venomous either, however this did not offer Damian any comfort.

Truth be told, his mind was flitting back and forth between a plethora of topics, all equally distressing, unnerving, and depressing. Nothing that the woman before him would be pleased to hear, yet ignoring the question, staying silent, was a far more dangerous option.

"You have taken me away, uprooted me, from where I was most comfortable…" He began hesitantly. "It is… a lot to swallow, much to dwell upon."

To his surprise, Talia remained calm, and merely continued.

"He _gave_ you to me Damian, of his own free will, with no hesitation."

Damian squeezed his eyes shut, breaking the eye contact with a soft exhale of breath.

"You gave him very little choice, Mother." He murmured.

Talia gave a small huff, and tilted his chin, giving a hint of a smile.

"Bruce Wayne- _The Batman_, had a choice. He chose Gotham, a dark decrepit city, over his own flesh and blood. He did not fight for you my son, but I did. I fought valiantly for you and triumphed." Talia responded confidently, and at this, Damian met her gaze once more, slumping in her grasp.

"This is… not untrue." He reluctantly agreed, sighing.

And with his agreement, Talia's warm smile returned and she release her grip, patting him on the cheek.

"You are far better off with me Damian, I assure you. At least when you were with me, you knew what to expect from me, and what I expected of you."

Damian remained silent thereafter for the remainder of the noisy flight. Talia commenced petting him like an animal as well.

It was fitting he supposed.

After all, once he returned to the estate, it would surely be like living in a cage.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


End file.
